


Making Memories

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco’s life is looking up. His bookshop is doing well and he’s even dating Harry Potter. Sort of. But when he’s stricken with a mysterious illness, will Harry be able to find the cause in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SqueekaCuomo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueekaCuomo/gifts).



> **Author's Notes:** Squeeka, you requested ‘sexy but not porny’ and ‘something festive’, so I hope this fits the bill. Happy Holidays! Thanks to my pre-readers for their assistance, and to the moderators for their patience. And may we all get our heart’s desire this holiday. :)

Strictly speaking, Tidbits and Tomes wasn't _in_ Diagon Alley, but it was close enough to be considered a desirable retail location. Of course, in the days before the war, the Malfoy fortunes would have been enough to easily purchase several such properties, but after 'the fall' as Lucius Malfoy referred to it, fines and reparations levied against the family made such ventures impossible. So Draco, who knew enough about public relations to know that he couldn't be seen as idle, set about getting a lease and opening a shop. 

It had taken calling in every single favour owed to his parents, and he'd ending up owing several of his own, but he'd finally managed to open his bookstore two years after being acquitted of all war crimes.

Initially it had only been his notoriety that brought people to his shop. But Draco prided himself on being charming and persuasive, even under the most adverse of conditions and so, after three months, he’d acquired a stable cache of loyal customers. And with the holidays approaching, Draco hoped even more people would discover his shop.

At first, Draco had seen his shop as merely the means to an end, as a relatively benign way to regain respectability, but soon he discovered a startling truth: he loved books. After all, there were days that only one of two people came in, and usually that was only to browse, so he ended up with a lot of time on his hands. In a shop full of books. Which was why, most of the time, he could be seen perched in one of the cosy nooks overlooking the street behind Diagon, reading.

He learned a lot about life and himself in his reading, and had even discovered a love of cookbooks and cooking. Although, given how much he’d enjoyed Potions while in school, it wasn’t surprising, and Draco, who had moved into a tiny flat located above his shop, often spent his evenings concocting recipes that he tried out on Pansy when he was feeling social. 

The day he spotted Potter for the first time since his Wizengamot trial, Draco was ensconced in one of the hidden reading nooks and had a perfect view of the street, and of Potter as he approached. 

_He’s certainly filled out nicely,_ Draco thought, setting aside his book and tilting his head. Potter was strolling, peering into windows as he went, and when he stopped at a Quidditch supply store, Draco licked his lips. Gone was the scrawny teen, replaced by a man with gorgeous, broad shoulders and an arse that made Draco contemplate many lovely things. _And it definitely helps that he’s finally figured out how to dress._

When Potter finally got to Draco’s shop window, Draco held his breath. With Christmas only a few weeks away, there had been increased traffic in the alley, but the bookstore had been slow all that week. _If people see Harry Potter here though, business may pick up. Which it has to if I’m going to have a happy holiday._

Hurrying down the stairs, Draco was just in time to greet Potter as he walked in. “Welcome to Tidbits and Tomes,” Draco said. “How may I--? Oh, hello, Potter.” 

“Malfoy. Hullo.” Potter looked around. “I’d heard you owned a bookstore, I guess this is it.” 

“This is it, yes.” Draco moved closer. “So, is there something I can help you find? A Christmas gift for Granger, perhaps?” 

Potter raised an eyebrow. “She’s not the only one of my friends who reads, you know.” 

Draco smirked. “Oh, I’m sure. After all, you have Ravenclaw friends, too.” 

Potter laughed. “And now I’m wondering whether or not to be insulted.” He shook his head. “Gryffindors read.”

“If you say so.” Draco hummed. “Well, in that case, children’s books are in that corner--” 

“Ha, ha.” Potter pursed his lips. “But seriously, I do need some help finding something.” 

“Oh course.” Draco immediately sobered. “What are you looking for?” 

“Do you have a copy of _Magicus Obscurus_?” Potter coughed as Draco raised an inquiring eyebrow. “And yes, it _is_ for Hermione.” 

Refraining from any more snide remarks, Draco gestured towards the rare books section. “I’m not here to judge,” he murmured. “This way.” After taking down the protective charms, he led Potter inside. 

“Impressive.” Potter looked around, eyes widening as he took in Draco’s restricted collection. “Wait, is that a copy of _Ancient Greek Curses_? And do you know how long I’ve been searching for a copy of _Compleate Cursebreaking_?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I take it you’re a Curse-Breaker?” 

Potter smiled wryly. “Is that so surprising?” 

Draco hummed. “I suppose that I, along with everyone else, assumed you’d become an Auror.”

Potter nodded. “I planned to, but--” He shrugged. “I think I saw enough death and destruction during the war, you know?” He looked away.

“I understand,” Draco said. “Believe me.” When Potter’s head popped up and he gave Draco a penetrating stare, Draco coughed. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Sadly that copy of _Compleate Cursebreaking_ isn’t a first edition,” he said. “But it is signed by Dephinia Whitcomb’s granddaughter, who was herself a competent Curse-Breaker.” Stepping away from Potter, he walked to a shelf and picked up his only copy of _Magicus Obscurus_. “Oh, and I believe you expressed interest in this as well?” 

Potter shook his head. “How did you come to have such a fabulous collection of obscure books?” 

_Blood, sweat and tears._ Draco smiled. “Connections. Now, shall we discuss price?” 

Potter seemed to brace himself. “All right. How much for all three?” 

When Draco named a sum that was about double what he’d originally planned to ask, Potter, to his surprise, simply grinned. “Not as bad as I thought it would be.” His eyes twinkling, he continued, “Are you sure you’re not giving me a discount because we were such great friends when we were at Hogwarts?” 

Draco snorted. “If I took _that_ into account, Potter, the price would have been even higher.” 

Potter laughed. “Of course.” 

Ringing the purchase up, Draco carefully wrapped the books and tried his best not to be caught stealing looks at Potter. _Salazar, even his hands are sexy._

Potter, however, seemed to be stealing looks right back. When his eyes locked with Draco’s, he cleared his throat. “So do you take order requests?”

“Yes.” Draco licked his lips. _And not just for books._ “Is there something specific you need?”

“Yes.” Potter regarded Draco thoughtfully. “I’ll let you know more soon, all right?”

“Of course.” Potter handed him a wonderfully heavy collection of Galleons, and Draco, willing his hands not to tremble, gave him his purchases and exhaled. What Potter had just spent was easily the equivalent of a month’s worth of operating expenses for the shop. _This may actually turn out to be a happy Christmas after all._ “Thank you for your patronage, Potter. Do come again.” 

Potter smiled crookedly. “You’re welcome, Malfoy. And I’ll definitely be back in a couple of days to place those orders.” 

“I look forward to it.” And as Potter exited, Draco sagged against the counter, eyeing Potter’s arse as he strode away and up the alley. He sighed when he realised he was already eagerly anticipating Potter’s return. _Damn, I’m in trouble._

***

“I hear Potter was in your shop today.”

Looking up from the dough he was kneading, Draco shook his head. “Several people were in my shop today. And don’t you have better things to do than listen to gossip?” 

Pansy smirked, brushing Floo-soot off her fur-lined robes before entering the kitchen. “Are you saying the rumour is untrue?” 

“No, he _was_ here today.” Draco grinned. “He spent oodles of money, too.” 

Pansy hummed, slipping onto the stool across the counter from Draco. “Lucky you. Do you think he’ll be in again? Maybe he’ll bring some friends with him next time so business will start to pick up.” 

“Let’s hope.” Draco added more flour to his mixture. “But even if he doesn’t, I’m hardly going to complain.” 

“No, I imagine not.” Pansy leaned forward. “So what are you making?” 

“Bread.” 

“You _are_ in a good mood.” Crossing her arms across her chest, Pansy regarded him thoughtfully. “Damn. I’m going to have to talk you down, aren’t I?” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” 

Pansy snorted. “You’ve had a _thing_ for Potter all your life, and now that he’s walked back into your life your...infatuation has returned.” 

“Oh please.” Draco began pounding the dough. “I’m not infatuated. And he’s not in my _life_ , he just visited the shop.”

“Mmhm.” Pansy sighed. “Well, before you ask, here’s what I know. He’s not married, and he isn’t dating anyone, at least that I can tell. Rumour has it that he’s as bent as you are, but very discreet about it.” 

Draco’s hands froze mid-knead. “Potter’s bent?”

Pansy smirked. “So say my sources, and as a newspaper woman, I have great sources.” 

Draco frowned. “I’d have thought the _Prophet_ would have trumpeted that all over the front page.” 

Pansy shrugged. “Uncle Barnabas doesn’t want to. He says the saviour of the wizarding world deserves privacy when it comes to his personal life.” She smirked. “Personally I think he’s keeping it in reserve for a slow news day.” 

“Plus, you’d have to have proof before making a claim like that, or Potter would own the _Prophet_ by the time he was done suing.” Draco worked more flour into the dough.

“That, too.” Pansy pursed her lips. “Do you want to go out for a drink? I’m hungry and that bread won’t be ready for ages. Plus, I want a martini. Not all of our jobs went that well today.” 

Draco looked up. “Bad day?” 

Pansy huffed. “Everyone at that newspaper only thinks I got the job because I’m related to the editor.” Draco raised an eyebrow and Pansy deflated. “All right, fine. I know that _is_ the reason. But that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing a good job there. They just need to give me a chance to show what I can do.” 

“I know.” Draco sighed. “Just give it time. They’ll see you’re good soon enough.” 

Pansy shook her head. “Oh, who am I fooling? I’m good at making tea and fetching sandwiches, and since that’s basically what they have me doing, I seem to have reached the pinnacle of my potential at the _Prophet_.” 

“Do something else, then.” Draco set the dough in a bowl to rise. “You’re a smart woman, Pansy. You can make your own way in the world.” 

“Sometimes I believe that,” Pansy whispered, staring at her hands. “But then someone reminds me that I did the stupidest thing possible. I tried to betray Potter, and I--” 

“Shh.” Draco laid a floury hand on hers. “It was a mistake, we all made them. People will forget eventually.” 

“Maybe.” Pansy straightened up her shoulders, making a visible effort to get out of her funk. Holding up her hand, she raised an eyebrow. “Do you realise you just got flour on me?” 

Draco grinned. “Mmhm. What are you going to do about it?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes and Summoning a cloth, wiped her hands clean. “I’m not doing anything about it. _You_ on the other hand are taking me out for drinks to apologise.”

“There’s the Pansy we all know and love.” Draco chuckled. “All right. Truth be told, I could do with one, too,” he admitted. “It’s been a long, busy day.” 

“Job security,” Pansy reminded him, getting to her feet. 

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining,” Draco said, washing his hands and Summoning his robes. “Not even a little.” 

“Good.” Linking their arms, Pansy smiled up at him. “And while we’re out you can tell all about Potter being in your shop. Oh, and you’re springing for sushi, too, since you’re doing so well.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Right, of course I am.” 

Pansy hummed. “I’m so glad we agree.”

***

Potter returned to Tidbits and Tomes two days later, and where Draco’s shop had been empty previously, it was now a madhouse, filled with people shopping for the holidays. Draco, in the midst of checking out a particularly quarrelsome customer, didn’t even realise Potter had come in until he looked up to see him standing there. “Potter.”

“Malfoy.” Potter looked even more gorgeous than before, clad in a cream-coloured jumper that brought out the green of his eyes, and in khaki trousers that showed his arse to perfection. Not that Draco was checking his arse out in the reflection he could see in the glass bookcase across from the checkout counter, oh no. 

“Young man, if you’re not too distracted, may I have my purchase?” 

Flushing, Draco turned away from Potter to hand the old harridan her books. She looked vaguely familiar, but before Draco could focus on her properly, she snatched the items from his hand and, shooting Potter a poisonous look, hobbled away. 

Potter stared after her, bemused. “People are pretty desperate for their books, hm?” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. Now, how can I help you today, Potter?” 

Potter smiled. “Well, there are two things, actually. One, I need some books for several kids aged about five. Two of them are twins and they have to have _everything_ the same.” He rolled his eyes. “And I’d like to order a couple of specialty books.” 

Reaching under the counter, Draco pulled out his ledger. “Of course. Let’s start with what you’d like to order, and then I can help you select the children’s books.” 

Potter looked around at the packed shop. “You know, if you’re too busy right now I can come back later--” 

“That won’t be necessary; I’ve secured help for the holidays.” Draco nodded towards the back of the store to where Pansy was assisting several shoppers.

Potter blinked. “You hired Parkinson?” He sounded doubtful.

Draco’s voice went cool. “Yes. I can only afford to have her part time, sadly. Her current job isn’t fully utilising her potential, and I needed the help, especially over the holidays.” 

Slowly, Potter nodded. “Makes sense to me. And it wasn’t a criticism.” He sighed. 

Draco nodded stiffly. “I know you and she have had your...differences--” 

Potter coughed. “No more than you and I did,” he pointed out. “And honestly, we were kids during the war. Scared kids. I don’t blame her for what happened.” 

“That’s...big of you, Potter.” Draco relaxed. “So, what books did you need me to order for you?” Once the list was compiled, Draco stepped out from behind the counter and gestured. “Now, what are these children you’re buying for interested in?” 

By then the crowd had thinned a bit, allowing Draco the luxury of spending several minutes with Potter as he looked through the children’s book section. Unfortunately, Pansy was starting to get overwhelmed, so he finally had to leave Potter browsing and go help her. 

“So sorry to pull you away from your drooling,” she drawled as he joined her at the counter to start checking customers out. “But this _is_ your livelihood and reputation at stake.” 

Draco shot her a nasty look before turning towards an elderly witch and, with a bright, insincere smile, wrapping up her books on magical knitting. Within five minutes the shop was practically empty but for a couple of browsers and Potter, who was still contemplating his purchases. 

“I think I can handle it from here,” Pansy said, nodding in Potter’s direction. With a sigh, she patted his arm. “And sorry I interfered earlier.” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco didn’t bother to answer, he just walked over to Potter. “Find anything?” he asked. 

“I’m wavering between _Toadstool Tales_ or _Edward, The Enchanted Engine_.” Potter sighed. “Wasn’t there something about _Toadstool Tales_ making kids puke?” 

“That was the fifth edition,” Draco said. “I only carry the sixth.” 

“Ah.” Reaching out, Potter picked up a handful of books. “Right, then I guess I’ll have these.” 

Pansy was conspicuously absent when Draco and Potter returned to the counter. “So, how late are you open?” Potter asked as Draco rang up his purchases. 

Draco studiously avoided looking at him as he answered. “Well, with it being the holiday season, I, like most of the merchants around here, am planning to stay open until nine every night this week, although if business doesn’t justify it I may close early. Why?” 

Potter hummed. “I thought we could maybe get a drink, or maybe even some dinner some evening this week. There are things I’ve wanted to discuss with you for a long time and I think now I’m ready to do so.” 

Startled, Draco met Potter’s gaze. “Things?” 

“Yes.” Potter smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too ominous. Just...I’d like to clear the air between us and I have a bit of a favour to ask.” 

_A favour? That sounds...intriguing._ Squaring his shoulders, Draco nodded. “All right. But as I said, it can’t be until after nine.” 

“That’s okay, Draco.” Coming up behind him, Pansy patted his shoulder. “I can stay late. After all, it’s not as if I’m busy at my other job.” She smirked. “Plus, it’s obvious you need me desperately here.” She turned to Potter. “Is eight tomorrow night all right?” 

“That should be fine, yes.” Potter sounded amused.

Draco tried to glare at her but she simply patted his cheek and walked away. 

Potter coughed. “So...eight tomorrow night, then?” 

Draco sighed. “Evidently.”

***

“Ready for your date tonight?” Pansy asked the moment Draco opened the door to Tidbits and Tomes the next day. She held two cups of coffee in her mittened hands and Draco, still half asleep, snatched one.

“It’s not a date,” Draco growled. 

Pansy hummed. “You never used to be delusional.” 

“I’m not delus--Circe and Morgana, this is good.” Draco moaned as he took his first sip. “What is it?” 

“Starbucks’ pumpkin spice latte.” Pansy grinned. “Say what you will about Muggles, but they do make good coffee.” 

Draco moaned. “I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you.” Closing his eyes, he savoured the flavour and vowed to locate the coffee shop where it had come from. No matter how he tried, he simply couldn’t make good coffee.

“Be nice or I’ll confiscate that and drink it myself,” Pansy said, pushing past him. “And of course you’re delusional when it comes to Potter. But whatever. Anyway, on to more important things. I quit my job at the _Prophet_ this morning. I now work here full time.” 

Draco froze mid sip. “I thought we agreed we were going to wait and see how business went before you did that. You do know this could all still go tits up, yes?” 

Pansy shrugged. “Of course I’m aware, but if yesterday proved anything to me it’s that I’m not cut out to be the tea girl at a newspaper. Working with you yesterday was more fun than I’ve had in ages.” 

“Pansy, stop.” Grabbing her arm, Draco pulled her over towards the counter. “Just tell me what happened.” 

Tossing her head, Pansy faced him. “Nothing happened. I simply decided to quit my dead end job, so I did. Uncle Barnabas was never going to let me do anything meaningful there.” She shrugged. “At least this way I can do something fun.” 

Draco sighed. “Retail isn’t about having fun, Pansy, it’s hard work. Plus, I can’t afford to pay you very much.” 

“I know that.” Pansy leaned against the counter, eyeing him over the rim of her coffer cup. “I want to work here anyway.” Setting the cup down, she grabbed his arm. “Come on, Draco! Where’s your sense of adventure? We can do this. We can make this a success.” She hummed. “You know, I have a little money left after the Ministry fined us, so I can contribute something--” 

Draco shook his head. “It’s bad enough that _I_ may fail, but I don’t want to take you down with me.” He sipped his coffee.

“At least we’d go down together,” Pansy whispered. Then, in one of her mercurial changes of mood that Draco remembered from school, she smirked mischievously. “Although something tells me you’d prefer to go down with Potter.” 

“Pansy!” Draco practically choked on his coffee.

“What?” She chuckled. “Don’t tell me that thought hadn’t occurred to you.” 

Draco shook his head. That way lay madness. “We’re not discussing my sex life.” _Ever._ “We’re discussing our futures. Stop trying to change the subject. Everything I have is in this store, but it isn’t very safe. I could end up on the street.” 

“ _We_ could, but we’ll be fine.” Pansy patted his cheek. “Potter won’t let anything happen to you, and you won’t let anything happen to me. You see? It’s perfect. Now, shall we discuss some changes I think we should make in the displays?” She smiled. “I’ll even pay for them.” 

Draco sighed. If being friends with Pansy had taught him anything it was that once she’d made up her mind it was set. He gestured. “Go on, then. But I have the right to refuse all of your suggestions.” 

Pansy smirked. “You won’t. Now, I think we need Christmas music playing in the background, and over here on this wall we should--”

***

“You’ve redecorated,” Potter said when he arrived at eight. Looking around, he smiled. “I like it.”

Draco sighed. “Pansy. She’s decided to make me bring her in as my partner.” 

Potter went still. “Oh?” he said, his voice a bit too nonchalant. 

Draco glanced at him. “Business partner,” he clarified. 

Flushing, Potter looked away, making a show of scanning the shop. “Ah, I see. Well I think it’s very...welcoming. It should definitely bring in the holiday customers.” 

“What would really bring in the customers is what we discussed earlier, Draco.” Walking up to them, Pansy smiled meaningfully at Draco. 

“Well we’re not discussing it right now,” Draco shot back, eyes narrowed. 

Pansy hummed. “If you say so.” Turning away, she said, “Have fun tonight! Enjoy the d--”

Draco coughed warningly. 

“--dusk.” Pansy smiled over her shoulder at them. “I hear it’s going to be a lovely evening. And don’t worry about the shop, Draco. It’s in good hands.”

As they exited the bookstore, Draco muttered, “I can’t help but think she’ll redecorate everything by the time I get back.” 

Potter laughed. “Surely not. You’re only going to be gone a few hours.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about the women in _your_ life, Potter, but I know Pansy. A couple of hours is enough time for her to reorganise any space.” 

Potter grinned. “I can’t say Hermione is any different, actually. Oh well, maybe you’ll like it.” 

Draco shook his head. “I’m not sure that will matter.” 

“Well, I tell you what,” Potter said, grasping Draco’s elbow and guiding him out the way of the throngs of Christmas shoppers. “Let’s go get a drink and something to eat and then it won’t seem nearly so bad.” 

Potter’s touch was calming. Despite himself, Draco relaxed. _Things are already looking up._ Inclining his head, he smiled. “Lead the way.” 

They went to one of the newer gastropubs to spring up in Diagon after the war, the Golden Goblet. There was a wait, but the moment the hostess saw Potter’s scar she smiled and miraculously, a booth materialised for them ahead of everyone else. 

“This way, Mr Potter,” she said, leading them to a prime spot in front of the window. 

“Nicely done,” Draco murmured after they’d been seated. 

Potter looked uncomfortable. “I don’t go looking for special treatment--”

“If it hadn’t happened, we’d still be outside in the cold,” Draco pointed out. “And I dunno about you, but I really hate being cold. Warming Charms can only do so much.” 

“Right.” Potter still seemed perturbed. “I just hate that people could think that I’m using my fame, such as it is, to get favours--” 

Draco sighed. “Will you please relax? Honestly, do any of the people in line look upset?” 

Potter glanced over towards the door. The people who had originally been standing there when they’d arrived had been seated, and no one in the new crowd seemed concerned. “I suppose not.” 

“And since when do you care what anyone else thinks of you anyway?” Draco picked up the menu. “I recall being quite jealous of that when we were in school.” 

“What?” Potter blinked. “What do you mean?” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know?” 

Potter nodded. “I really don’t.”

“For all the years I’ve been watching you, it’s never seemed to matter what people were saying about you. Even when they were saying horrid things about you, claiming you were petrifying students our second year, that you put your name in the Triwizard Cup, that you were Undesirable Number One.” Draco sat back in his chair and regarded Potter. “You shrugged all that off. So why does it matter if people think you get special favours? To be honest, you deserve special favours.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Potter smiled. “I’ve never wanted to be in the spotlight, but if I have to be known I’d rather be known as that tosser, Harry Potter, who stumbled around trying to do something to make the world a bit better for people rather than some bloke who uses his name to get good tables in gastropubs.” 

Draco snorted. “Why can’t you be both?” 

“No reason I suppose.” Potter’s smile went sharp. “And you’ve been watching me?” 

Flushing, Draco looked away. “It’s been known to happen on occasion.” He huffed. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Potter laughed. “Oh, I won’t. Have you been here on a date before?” 

_A date_? Startled, Draco glanced up at Potter. “No.” 

“Me either. Looks like we’ll have to guess what’s good.” 

They ordered. Draco a nice, safe glass of wine, and Potter, some ale. Once the waitress delivered their drinks, Draco cleared his throat. “So I’m very curious. What did you want to talk about?” 

Potter sighed. “Right, so I should have done this right after the trial, really, but things got a bit mad there for a while, what with having to testify for Snape, too, and by the time I realised I still had it, I thought maybe you’d already replaced it, so--”

“Potter,” Draco interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

“This.” Reaching into his robes, Potter pulled out a wandbox, pushing it across the table towards Draco. 

Draco went still. “Is that--?”

Potter nodded. “Go on,” he said, tone gentle. “Open it.” 

Despite his best efforts, Draco’s hands trembled as he reached for the box. And when he opened it and saw his old wand, he picked it up and closed his eyes. “Hawthorn and unicorn hair,” he whispered. 

“Dra-Malfoy? Are you all right?” Potter sounded concerned.

Opening his eyes, Draco smiled. “I’m fine. Thank you. This means a lot.” Cradling the wand in his hand, he savoured the warm, familiar magic as it coursed through him. “I’ve been using a wand my mother had as a child, but this one feels much better.” 

“I’m glad.” Potter licked his lips. “That’s not all, however.” 

“Oh?” Reaching for his wine, Draco took a long swallow. “Do tell.”

“You’ll recall when I invited you out I mentioned I wanted a favour from you?”

Draco nodded. He recalled everything about that conversation. “Yes.” 

“As you know, I’m a Curse-Breaker. But what you may not know is that I’m also a consultant to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in certain cases involving Dark artefacts that have gone missing after being confiscated after the war.” 

Draco pursed his lips. “I see.” 

“Recently, some of those artefacts have shown up in shops on Diagon alley.” 

“All right.”

“One was a Dark grimoire. It was inadvertently sold to a Squib, who then allowed it to fall into Muggle hands.” Potter sighed. “The Obliviators had fun with that, let me tell you.” 

“What happened?” Draco asked. 

“The Muggle opened it, read it, and it reanimated his dead dog.” Potter rolled his eyes. “There were articles in the newspapers for weeks afterwards about the zombie apocalypse. And the Squib died.” 

“Died? How? And what’s a zombie?”

“Zombies are what Muggles call Inferi.” Potter sighed. “And the Squib seemed to have died from sort of fast-acting, neurologic disease. Hermione’s calling it a slow-acting Cruciatus Curse since it affects all the nerves. Apparently the Squib was in agony before he died.”

Draco shuddered. “Charming. So how can I help?” 

“There were six of those grimoires, and we’ve only found one. We believe the others have been scattered throughout book distributors, or perhaps are even now in bookstores like yours, just waiting to be sold to unsuspecting customers.” 

“And you think someone’s distributing them to wreak havoc?”

“Or for something more nefarious.” Potter leaned forward. “What do Death Eaters want more than anything? Voldemort’s return. And a Muggle managed to bring his dog back to life with just one book. What if someone had all six?”

Draco went cold. “Wait, you’re not suggesting that I could possibly be involved because I was in the Death Eater camp--”

“Not at all,” Potter reassured him. “You’re not a suspect, but you are a bookseller, which is why I was hoping you could help me.” 

Draco relaxed. “Go on.” 

“Would you be willing to try to obtain one of the grimoires?” Potter coughed. “Whenever _we_ try, magical book distributors know we’re not a legitimate bookseller, and so--” 

Slowly, Draco nodded. “I only use reputable distributors,” he said. “But I am...aware of whom to go to for less...savoury items, if that’s what you mean.” 

“I won’t ask if you’ve ordered things from them before.” Potter smiled. “But yes, that’s exactly what I mean. So if I give you the particulars, can you make some inquiries?” 

“I believe so, yes.” 

Potter exhaled. “Brilliant. I told Ron you’d help.”

“Weasley?” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why would he care?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Potter grinned. “He’s the Auror assigned to the case. He’ll appreciate your help.” 

Draco huffed. “I see being a Curse-Breaker has taught you to lead with your strongest argument.” 

Potter laughed. “How about we have another drink so it won’t seem so bad?” 

Humming, Draco eyed his empty wineglass. “All right. Although you’ll excuse me for wondering if you’ve another, more personal reason for trying to get me drunk this evening.” 

Potter blushed beautifully. “Is that a hint that I should actually feed you, too?” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “You’re an expensive date, Malfoy.” 

_And that’s the second time he’s used that word._ Leaning back in his chair, Draco smirked. “You don’t know the half of it. Just wait until I order dessert.” 

Potter’s smile deepened. “Looking forward to it.”

***

The walk back to Tidbits and Tomes was quiet. The shops had all closed for the night and a sprinkling of snow, just enough to muffle their footsteps, had covered the street, turning it into a picturesque scene.

Draco, slightly tipsy, kept stealing covert looks at Potter, but he never could, since whenever he did he found Potter looking back. Distracted, he stumbled. Potter caught him and then proceeded to link their arms. “Just for stability,” he said.

“I’ll have you know, I’m very stable,” Draco sniffed. When, a moment later, he practically pulled Potter down with him because of sliding in a slick spot, he huffed. “Sodding snow. It’s ruining my image.” 

Potter laughed, tightening his grip. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, so your image is intact.” 

“Is it now?” Draco asked just as they pulled up to his shop. 

With the lights out the doorway was dark and Potter, expression suddenly serious, nodded, pulling Draco into the shelter provided by the awning. “Most definitely,” he whispered, leaning in. 

Draco had known kissing Potter would be a memorable experience, and he wasn’t disappointed. Potter gathered Draco close, sliding his arms around his waist before plundering his mouth ruthlessly. 

Eyes closed, his back against the door, Draco surrendered himself to Potter, to his hands and the heat of his mouth, moaning as Potter’s tongue explored him thoroughly.

When Potter drew back, Draco’s eyes fluttered open. “Care to explain how being caught snogging in front of my shop is supposed to help my image?” he asked, tone husky.

Potter licked his lips, and something flipped in Draco’s gut. “It probably isn’t,” he admitted. “Sorry.” 

Draco smirked. “I’m not. These days I don’t care that much about my image. So, would you like to come in?” 

Potter laughed softly. “I’d love to, which is why I probably shouldn’t.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain that to me?” 

“We’re supposed to be working together.” Potter sighed. “It wouldn’t be very professional if we were sleeping together.”

“Who said anything about me allowing you to sleep?” Draco purred.

Potter groaned. “You are too tempting by half.” Cupping Draco’s face with his hands, he murmured, “Let’s keep this professional for now, all right?” 

“Very well.” Mischievously, Draco turned his head and kissed the palm of Potter’s left palm. “I suppose this means no more kissing.” 

A strangled noise emerged from Potter’s throat and a moment later his body was pressed firmly against Draco’s. “I didn’t say that,” he breathed hotly against Draco’s neck.

Smirking, Draco wound his arms around Potter’s neck. “Perhaps we should...negotiate ahead of time what we’re allowed to do?” he murmured. 

Potter groaned. “I knew you’d be like this.” 

“Like what?” 

Teeth grazing Draco’s jaw, Potter bit out, “Difficult yet intoxicating.” 

“Hmmm.” Draco hummed. “And just how long have you been planning this, Potter?” 

“This?” Potter drew back, staring into Draco’s eyes. 

“My seduction.” 

Potter grinned. “I didn’t plan anything, actually. Maybe I should have--” A buzzing noise made him frown. “Damn.” 

“What?” 

Reaching into his robes, Potter pulled out his wand. It was vibrating. “ _Narrorare_.”

Ronald Weasley’s voice emerged from the tip of the wand. “Harry, we’ve a break in the case. Stop by when you get this, will you?” 

Draco blinked. “What sort of spell is that?” 

Potter smiled. “Hermione came up with it. It’s a bit faster than sending a Patronus and since mobiles won’t work around magic, it’s the next best thing if you’re not by a Floo. Not great for privacy, though.” 

“Still very clever,” Draco said. “You’ll have to teach it to me.” 

Potter beamed. “It is, isn’t it? And sure. Anyway, I should go.” Stepping back from Draco, Potter said, “I’ll be back to check on your progress in a couple of days, all right?” 

“Very well.” Draco smirked. “And then I suppose we’ll resume the not-kissing.” 

Potter shook his head. “I think you’re going to be the death of me,” he said before Disapparating. 

Sighing, Draco leaned against the shop door and sighed. _Actually, I think you’ll be the death of me._

***

Things at the bookshop quickly settled into a routine. Predictably, Pansy teased Draco about his date with Potter, and about his almost daily visits, but when he didn’t respond she let it drop. She did keep shooting speculative looks at him, however. Draco knew the subject wasn’t over.

As the holidays got closer, business picked up, but not nearly enough for Draco’s liking. “I really think that if you put up a sign in the window saying ‘Harry Potter shops here’ it would bring in even more business,” Pansy said.

Draco didn’t even look up from his ledger. “You’ve mentioned it before and the answer’s still the same. No.” 

“But why not?” Pansy leaned across the counter, placing her breasts on top of the ledger. “I bet he wouldn’t even mind. After all, he likes you.” 

“Shut up and would you please take your breasts out of my face?” Draco huffed. “I’m trying to do inventory here. Something’s not right.” 

Pansy became all business. “Is there a problem?” 

“I’m not sure.” Draco spun the ledger and pointed to an entry. “We got paid for a special order a couple of weeks ago, but there’s no corresponding item number next to it. So what were we paid for?” 

Pansy shrugged. “Maybe you just forgot to record what it was.” 

“I don’t think so. I mean it’s automatic. Not only is this ledger set up to record shipments when they come in, but it’s also charmed to ensure that I _can’t_ put in a credit without accounting for the purchase, specifically so that I don’t make this sort of mistake. I don’t want to run out of certain things, after all.” 

“Hm.” Pansy pursed her lips. “Sounds to me as if you’ll need to go to the back and do a visual inventory.” 

Draco groaned. “Salazar, you’re right. Damn.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Closing the ledger, Draco sighed. “I hate it back there. It’s a bit creepy.”

“Wait, what?” Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’re afraid of your own storeroom? Honestly, Draco, you’re the boss. Just put more lamps in or something.” 

“Trust me, I’ve tried. It doesn’t seem to matter.” Straightening his shoulders, Draco picked up the ledger. “Right, I’ll be in the back. Think you can handle things here?”

Pansy shooed him. “Go.” She smirked. “And if your boyfriend comes in I’ll send him right in.” 

Holding up two fingers, Draco stalked past her. Just as he got to the back, however, he heard her say, “You wish, darling. I suspect that’s only happening between you and Potter.”

The storeroom was brightly lit and clean. Draco had no clue why it bothered him, but he tended to avoid the place whenever possible. Shivering, he looked around and hurried over to the section beside the cargo Floo, which contained the newest arrivals.

After counting those books, Draco then moved on to the next section. Every few minutes, however, he looked over his shoulder, convinced he was being watched. “Pansy?” he finally called out. 

There was no answer and, rolling his eyes at himself, Draco returned to his inventory. He’d just got to the popular fiction section when a noise made him jump and pull his wand.

“Whoa!” Potter, hands up, walked into the storeroom. “You’re jumpy. Everything all right?” 

Exhaling, Draco lowered his wand, feeling foolish. “This room just makes me nervous. Always has.” 

Frowning, Potter looked around. “Feels all right to me, but if you’d like I can check the wards and do a sweep for curses.”

“That’s not necessary--” 

“It’s no problem.” Potter drew his wand. “If working as a Curse-Breaker has taught me anything it’s to never ignore your instincts. This will only take a few minutes.” 

Feeling better with Potter there, Draco quickly finished his inventory, but was still unable to locate the missing items from the ledger. Frowning, he marked the entry with a star so he’d know to investigate further.

“All clear,” Potter said minutes later. “You had a small breach in your wards, but nothing bigger than a rat could get through it. Still, I sealed it for you.” 

“Thanks,” said Draco. “Rodents aren’t friends of books, so that’s probably for the best.” 

“Any word from your distributor?” Potter asked. “Two more of those cursed grimoires were found, one in London, the other in Cambridge. Luckily we’ve all three under lock and key at Gringotts.” 

Draco shook his head. “Since we last talked I put in an order with my supplier and in with it, made a special request about any rare, Dark magic books that may have recently become available. I said it was for a ‘special customer’. I’ve had no reply yet.” 

“There’s still hope, I suppose.” Potter moved closer and Draco’s heartbeat sped up. “So, are you busy today?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You saw the shop. Did it look busy?” 

“No.” Potter reached out, drawing Draco to him. “Which makes it a good day to take you out to lunch.” 

“And continue our non-dating, non-kissing tradition?” Draco murmured. 

“Who said anything about non-dating?” Potter asked. “And as for the other--”

The moment Potter’s lips touched his, Draco surrendered, winding his arms around Potter’s waist and leaning into his embrace. The kiss started slow, with Potter exploring Draco’s mouth, but it soon escalated, and within moments Draco was up against a stack of boxes, with Potter pressed close, one thigh pressed between Draco’s legs as they rocked together. 

Dragging his mouth from Draco’s, Potter rested their foreheads together. “How is it that you make me lose control so bloody fast?” he gasped. 

Smoothing his palms over Potter’s back, Draco smiled. “That’s just my natural sex appeal.” 

“Lunch,” Potter groaned, drawing back. “In public so I can keep my hands off you.” 

Draco licked his lips, smirking as Potter’s eyes darkened. “You don’t believe in public displays of affection? Funny, I thought you did after all that time you spent snogging the breath out of me in front of my shop a couple of nights ago.” 

Shaking his head, Potter clasped his hand, dragging him out of the storeroom. Behind them lay the ledger, momentarily forgotten.

***

“First dinner and now a long lunch date?” Pansy smirked when Draco returned that evening. “Surely breakfast can’t be far behind.”

“Shut it, you.” Draco locked the front door of the shop and put up the wards. “Since we’ve no customers we’re closing early. And didn’t you say you have somewhere to be?” 

“I do.” Pansy smoothed down her robes. “I’ve a date with Theo tonight.”

“Nott?” Draco smiled. “Good for you. What’s he doing these days?” 

“He’s studying to apply to St Mungo’s Healer program. But that won’t open until after the holidays, so in the meantime he’s doing some extra potions work with Snape.” 

“Good for him.” Draco smoothed a hand through his hair. “Give him my regards.” 

Pansy smiled. “I will.” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have plans this evening, then? I’d assumed that Potter--” 

“Sure I do,” Draco interrupted. “I’ve a good book picked out and then I’ll be going to bed. Now off with you.” 

Once alone, Draco turned out all but the festive fairy lights, which he usually left on all night in honour of the upcoming holiday, and headed up the stairs. 

After a quick supper of soup and a ham sandwich, he settled in with a book he’d selected several days prior but hadn’t yet had a chance to read. He got to the second chapter when he recalled he’d left his ledger in the storeroom. _Damn._

He debated with himself for a minute before finally deciding that he needed to get it. _After all, if I get a response from the supplier that’s where it will show up._

Reluctantly, he went back down into the store, and approached the back room. Even with turning on all the lights, the place still felt creepy, and Draco hurried over to where he last recalled seeing the ledger. It wasn’t there. What was there, however, was an unfamiliar crate. 

“When did you arrive?” he muttered. “I didn’t authorise any after-hours shipments.” 

He pried the crate open. Inside were two books cradled in straw. They were obviously old. Tentatively, Draco reached in, touching one, wincing as a shock went up his arm. “Ouch!” He huffed, shaking the tingles out of his arm. “What the hell are _you_ , then?” Frowning, Draco drew his wand. “There’s only one way to find out I suppose. _Accio ledger._ ” 

There was a thump and the book came sailing towards him from behind a stack of crates. Draco caught it deftly. “Now what in the world were you doing back there?” he murmured, turning it over in his hands. 

“I was making an entry in it until you rudely ripped it from me.” Draco’s wand shot from his hand, clattering onto the floor, and a moment later an old woman emerged from behind the crates. “You really are too nosy for your own good, boy.” 

She looked familiar, and it took Draco only a couple of seconds to place her. “You! You’re the witch who keeps ordering those old books.” 

“You remember that?” She hummed. “Yes, those were the fourth set of grimoires I slipped past you. Just one more shipment and I’ll have them all.” She cackled. “And you were so busy ogling Harry Potter that I managed to erase my name from your ledger while you weren’t looking.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you? Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You say that every time.” The witch’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve made it a habit to forget things and people, haven’t you, Draco Malfoy? When I started doing this I thought I was doing you a favour by Obliviating you every time, but then I realised you don’t actually care for anyone but yourself. Typical Malfoy. My poor Vincie thought you were his friend, but you were just using him.” 

“Vince--?” Draco’s mouth dropped open. “I _do_ know you. You’re Madam Crabbe, Vince’s grandmother.” 

Madam Crabbe snorted. “That’s the first time you’ve remembered _that_. Maybe I need to do a more thorough job with my Memory Charm this time.” 

“This time?” Draco didn’t like the sound of that. 

She smiled cruelly. “Oh yes, I’ve been using your shop for a while. And having Potter strengthen your wards was smart, but not smart enough. After all, the problem wasn’t keeping me out, but not letting me stay in after the shop closes.”

 _Fuck._ Draco’s mind was racing. “What do you want?” 

“You know what I want! I want you to suffer for my Vincie’s death! You could have saved him but you didn’t! And now you’re a pillow biter for the likes of Harry Potter? Just like your father, you are!” Her eyes glittered. “The disease from the book will be too slow, even if you will be in agony, so let’s speed it along, shall we? _Crucio_!” 

Searing agony ripped Draco’s body and he screamed, every nerve ending on fire. The pain seemed to last forever until finally, _finally_ it ended and Draco found himself sobbing, lying in a pool of his own excrement on the floor, Madam Crabbe standing over him. “Please--”

“Shut up!” She kicked him in the side, the pointed toes of her boots sending more sharp pains through him. “Vincie never had a chance to beg, he just burned up in that fire. The fire that you caused!” 

“No,” Draco gasped through his anguish. “He set the Fiendfyre--”

“Because you taught him!” Madam Crabbe shouted. “It’s all your fault and you’ll pay. _Crucio_!” 

Draco’s back arched as pain ripped through him again. And again. His world narrowed to searing pain as he felt as if he was being slowly reduced to his component parts as painfully as possible, and when the torment finally became too much he started to black out. 

“If I didn’t need you alive long enough to obtain all my grimoires I’d kill you now,” came a distant voice. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back to finish the job soon. Too bad you won’t know I’m coming. _Obliviate_!” 

Coming to with a gasp, Draco winced. He was on the floor, his every muscle screaming in agony, and it took him a moment to orient himself. _The storeroom. Fuck, I must have fallen and hit my head_! 

Somehow he stood up, bending over when the pain became too much. He located his wand in one corner and his ledger in another. It took almost thirty minutes for him to hobble up the stairs to his flat the pain was so intense, and when he got there he just managed to gulp down some Pain Potion before collapsing into his bed and passing out.

***

The next day Draco stayed in bed. Pansy, taking one look at him, shook her head. “Trust you to get Dragon Pox during the holiday season,” she said. “At least the shop’s not too busy. Just get some rest, all right?”

Draco passed that day swallowing Pain Potion and trying not to move. And if Potter visited, he wasn’t aware of it. 

When Draco was still aching the next day, however, Pansy started to worry. “Maybe you should see a Healer.” 

“What are they going to do?” Draco groaned. It even hurt to talk. “They’ll just tell me to rest.” 

“Okay.” Biting her lip, Pansy backed out of the room. “Just so you know, Potter keeps stopping by. Should I send him up this time?” 

_And let him see me like this_? “No.” Draco closed his eyes. “Just...tell him I’m still sick and I’ll be in touch when I feel better.” 

But it didn’t seem as if Draco would ever feel better, and after two more days, Pansy took matters into her own hands. 

Draco, drifting in and out of consciousness, barely registered it as he heard her enter his room.

“He’s over here and I’m really scared. He needs a Healer.” 

But the next voice Draco heard made him immediately open his eyes. “Merlin, you look terrible!” Potter sounded worried.

Draco blinked up at Potter, who was bent over him. He tried twice before he could speak. “I thought...we were going...to be all...business?” he tried to tease. “People may...get the wrong...idea if you’re...in my bedroom.” 

Potter shook his head. “You’d flirt on your deathbed, wouldn’t you?” 

“Which this could well be if you don’t do something, Potter!” Pansy looked frantic. 

“She’s right, you’re sick. I’m taking you to St Mungo’s.” 

“Don’t touch me--” But it was too late. Bending down, Potter scooped Draco up into his arms, blankets and all. “Idiot,” Draco tried to shout, but it came out a whimper. “What if I’m contagious?” 

Potter stared down at him as he cradled him close. “Then we’d better hope there’s a cure.” He looked at Pansy. “Is there a Floo?”

“No Floo here,” croaked Draco. “Like my privacy. Downstairs, though.” 

“No time for that. Right, hang on, then.” 

The squeeze of Side-Along-Apparition made Draco pass out, and when he came to he was in a white room on a cot. Above him stood Potter and Granger, arguing. Granger was wearing a Bubble-Head Charm.

“...not safe, Harry! We’ve no idea what this is and--” 

“It’s too late, then, isn’t it?” Potter crossed his arms. “I’ve already had contact, so I guess you’ll just have to figure out what it is and cure him. And maybe if it affects me, too, you’ll have reason to work faster!” 

“Ugh!” She threw up her hands. “You are so aggravating!” 

“You’ve no idea--” Draco whispered. “Although the...kisses do...make up for it.” 

“Draco!” Potter immediately sat down on the cot beside Draco and clasped his hand, ignoring Granger, who looked like she’d swallowed a cat. “How do you feel?” 

“Like shit.” Draco swallowed, wincing at the pain. “Everything hurts. Salazar, even my hair hurts.” 

Granger’s eyes went wide and she clasped Potter’s shoulder. “Harry,” she said, tone urgent. “We need to talk.” 

“In a minute, Hermione.” 

“No. _Now_!” 

Shooting an apologetic look at Draco, Potter murmured, “I’ll be right back,” before releasing Draco’s hand and moving to a corner with Granger. There they had a hushed, furious conversation, and when Potter returned his expression was grave. “Have you had any exposure to cursed books?” he asked Draco. 

Draco frowned as something tickled his memory but then slipped away. “No. Why?” 

Granger, behind Potter, coughed. “Because you’re exhibiting all the symptoms of that Squib who found one of the cursed grimoires that Harry told you about. The ones you’re helping to trace.” 

It took Draco a moment to recall what Potter had told him about the grimoires. When he did, his eyes widened. “You mean I’m dying a fast, painful death?”

“Not if I can help it.” Potter’s face was set. Draco recalled a similar look on his face when he’d faced Voldemort. “Think hard, Draco. Have you received any odd shipments lately?” 

Draco shook his head. “I really don’t think--” 

He paused, and Potter leaned in. “What? Do you remember something?” 

“No, but my ledger should show if I got any shipments. It’s in my flat.” 

“I’ll get it.” Straightening up, Potter turned to face Granger. “Unless I’m under some sort of quarantine?” 

Granger sighed and with a wave of her hand dismissed her Bubble-Head Charm. “No, you’re fine. The Squib’s disease wasn’t contagious and now that I’m pretty sure that’s what this is, I can say you’re safe. Just...try not to come into contact with any cursed books, all right?” 

Potter smiled. “I’ll do my best.” Leaning in, he hugged her and, without even a slight hesitation he bent over Draco and kissed him full on the mouth. “She’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“See...that you...are,” Draco said. “Otherwise I’m sure to be bored here.” 

Potter shook his head and, after another long, searching look at Draco, strode from the room. 

“Right,” said Granger, tone brisk. “Let’s run some tests, shall we? And I suspect you could do with a bit more Pain Potion.” 

Draco nodded, and as he swallowed the potion and closed his eyes to the sound of Granger chanting examination spells, the last thing he felt before falling asleep was the warmth of Potter’s mouth on his.

***

When Draco woke, it was to find Pansy sitting at his bedside. She’d obviously been crying. “Is the world ending?” Draco whispered. “Your mascara’s running.”

Jumping up, Pansy leaned over and hugged Draco. “I don’t care if I look a sight,” she said, voice thick. “How do you feel?” 

Draco tried to smile. “Like shit.” 

“Well at least you’re consistent since you look like shit, too.” Pansy’s bottom lip wobbled. “You can’t die, Draco. We didn’t survive the war only to die now.” 

“Excellent advice.” Pansy turned around, her body shifting just enough so that Draco could see his father standing at the door. His mother hovered behind him. 

“Father,” Draco whispered, suddenly feeling all of five years old. “Mummy.” 

With a sob, Narcissa rushed forward, pushing Pansy out of the way. “My baby,” she said, gathering him in her arms. “My poor baby.” 

Draco’s eyes met Lucius’. Slowly, Lucius nodded. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, son. Don’t worry.” 

By the time Granger reentered the room, Lucius had done his own magical sweep, waving his wand and muttering as he went, and Narcissa had set up scented candles around the room. Pansy, having decided to give them some private time, had returned to the bookstore. 

To her credit, Granger took the appearance of all the Malfoys in stride. “Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy,” she said, tone brisk. 

“ _You’re_ my son’s Healer?” Lucius asked. 

Granger’s eyes went cold. “That’s correct.” Her expression dared him to try to do anything about it. 

Lucius cleared his throat. “Well I’m sure that’s fine.” 

Granger didn’t even look at him again, instead she marched over to the bed and did a quick diagnostic scan of Draco with her wand. “How’s your pain level?” she asked. “Do you need more Pain Potion?” 

Draco shook his head. “No. That stuff...just makes...me groggy.” 

Granger nodded. “I know, that’s one of the side effects, I’m afraid. How about just a small dose?”

“All right,” Draco agreed. 

“Did you brew that?” asked Lucius.

Granger sighed. “While I am fully capable of doing so, no I did not. St Mungo’s has an official brewer. I believe you’re familiar with him. Severus Snape?” 

Lucius’ face cleared. “Severus. Yes. Perhaps I should find him and confer with him--” 

After Lucius left, Granger seemed to relax. “We’re working on coming up with a treatment for your condition, but we need more information about the curse you have been exposed to. Can you recall anything?” 

Frustrated, Draco shook his head. “No, nothing.” 

Granger nodded. “All right. Well I’ll let you visit with your parents for a while.” 

“What’s wrong with my son?” asked Narcissa, clutching Draco’s hand. 

“We believe that he’s been exposed to a cursed grimoire. The curse is causing nerve damage that we seem unable to reverse at this time. We have managed to stabilise it, though.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“You’re doing it,” said Granger. “Just having his family here is helping.” 

“Is he--?” Narcissa swallowed hard. “Is he going to die?” 

Granger’s eyes softened. “Not if I can help it, Mrs Malfoy.” 

Narcissa nodded. “Thank you.” 

When Granger left, Narcissa sat on the edge of Draco’s bed and slid her arm about his shoulders. “Shall I sing to you, darling?” she whispered, and Draco could hear the tears in her voice. “You always loved that.” 

Draco nodded. “Yes, Mummy,” he breathed, his eyes closing as the Pain Potion took effect. “Please.” And as he drifted off to the sound of his mother’s voice, Draco wondered whether Potter had discovered anything yet.

***

His eyes opened slowly and it took Draco a moment to recall where he was. He moaned and immediately someone took his hand. “How are you feeling?” asked Potter.

Draco coughed. “Sore,” he rasped. “Like someone beat me up...and then the Knight Bus...ran over me a few times.” 

Potter sighed. “Hermione left more Pain Potion if you’d like some.” 

When Draco nodded, Potter helped sit him up so he could swallow a few mouthfuls. It took all his energy and, with a sigh, he collapsed back onto the pillows. “Have you found out anything?” he asked.

Potter bit his lip. “I’ve examined your wards and there are several magical signatures present, of course.” 

Draco tried to snort. “Well it _is_ a shop.” 

“Right, but no one should be leaving after hours except you. So I cancelled yours out of my trace.” 

Draco frowned. “Pansy works there, too.” 

“Yes,” Potter acknowledged. “I took hers into account as well, although she wasn’t happy about allowing me to record her signature.” 

Draco chuckled softly. “No, I bet she wasn’t. So, did you discover anything?” 

“Maybe.” Potter leaned forward. “I found another signature that seems to pass through after hours fairly regularly. Does anyone else have access to your wards? A delivery person, perhaps?”

Draco frowned. “No. We get all of our deliveries by Floo.” He hesitated as a face flashed in his memory. He shuddered. “No, I don’t know who that could be.” 

“Well they seem to be there about every five to seven days. I assume they enter during normal hours, but then they trip the wards on their way out.” Potter shook his head. “I’d think you’d remember someone lingering in your shop after hours.” 

“Unless his memory has been tampered with.” 

Draco and Potter both looked towards the door where Granger was standing. Behind her stood Severus Snape. “What?” Draco said. 

Granger walked in. “As Harry knows, memory loss is one of my...special interests,” she said. “I’m particularly interested in how to restore memories that have been removed by magical means.”

Draco blinked. He recalled reading something in the papers about her parents... “Okay.” 

“And having scanned you several times now,” she continued, “I think yours have been altered.”

“Someone’s Obliviated me?” 

“Yes.” Granger sighed. “Possibly several times, although it’s hard to be sure about something like that.” 

“Which is why you don’t recall who did this to you or even what happened.” Potter’s face looked grim. 

“So what do we do now?” Draco was starting to hyperventilate. “We don’t know how to reverse the nerve damage, my memory’s gone, I’m going to die--”

“Stop.” Severus’ voice cut across Draco’s. “This isn’t the time to panic, Draco. We’re doing all we can. I’m working on a potion to reverse the damage,” he glanced at Potter, “although it would be helpful if I knew more about the curse that caused it.” 

“I’m working on that,” said Potter. 

“Work harder,” was Severus’ uncompromising reply. 

Draco exhaled. “But didn’t you say the one other person who had this died?”

“He was a Squib,” Granger reminded him. “I believe he died so quickly because the curse overwhelmed his system since he lacked magic. Your magic is fighting back, Draco.” 

“How long did he live?” Potter made a noise of protest, his fingers tightening on Draco’s, but Draco ignored him, focussing on Granger. “How long?” he repeated. 

“Two days.” 

Draco’s eyes widened. “I’ve been here longer than that.”

“Exactly.” Granger smiled. “Clearly it helps to be a stubborn gi--” She coughed. “Person.”

“What will also help is if we can discover more about this curse. And, as we have a Curse-Breaker--” Severus glared at Potter, who rolled his eyes. 

“I’m on it,” he said. “In fact, I’ve an idea--” Leaning down, he kissed Draco’s forehead. “I’ll be back.” 

Draco smirked at the look of horror on Severus’ face. “You call that a kiss?” he whispered. 

Potter grinned and, tilting Draco’s chin up with a finger, treated him to a thorough snog. 

Severus’ cough made Draco smile against Potter’s mouth. “Much better,” he murmured. 

“I try.” Pulling back, Potter stared searchingly into Draco’s eyes. “Stay safe and keep your wand close,” he whispered before kissing Draco’s lips lightly once more and moving for the door. 

“If you could bring back the actual grimoire that would be best,” called Severus after him. 

Potter simply shook his head and then was gone. 

Granger pulled her wand and started scanning him. Severus, reaching into his robes, extracting a small phial containing clear green liquid. “I’ve brewed a more concentrated Pain Potion,” he said. “You should only need a few drops of this.” 

“Will it make me sleepy?” Draco asked.

“Probably.” Severus raised an eyebrow as Draco made a face. “Which would you prefer, somnolence or pain?” 

_Well, when you put it like that--_ “Fine,” Draco sighed, opening his mouth. And as he again drifted off to sleep, he was hoping that Potter would work quickly.

***

The next two days passed in a blur. Lucius and Narcissa practically moved into Draco’s room for a while, and Pansy was a frequent visitor. There was no sign of Potter, however. Draco was beginning to worry.

“He’s probably off chasing leads,” Pansy said in an attempt to reassure him. “And he does have a job, too. Maybe he had to go and do it for a change.” 

Draco sighed. She was probably right, and yet-- Pushing all doubts aside, he said. “Speaking of jobs, what about the shop? If we’re both here, who’s working?” 

Pansy smiled. “Why Theo, of course! He agreed to cover for me while I visit you.” 

Draco groaned. “Pansy, he doesn’t know anything about retail.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Pansy waved a hand. “He’s fine. It’s not as if the shop’s been that busy anyway.” 

“You’re not helping,” Draco muttered, wincing as pain shot through his muscles. 

Pansy patted his hand. “Stop worrying about the shop, Draco. Now, do you want some more of Snape’s special Pain Potion? You look like you could use it.”

After two more days passed, Draco was about to demand that Granger send for Potter. His parents finally left at his request; he had been getting tired of his mother just sitting and staring at him as if trying to memorise his face, and his father’s furious helplessness hadn’t been boosting Draco’s morale at all. 

Lying there, Draco realised that he’d become so accustomed to seeing Potter almost every day that it made his absence very noticeable. _I miss him._ Was he staying away because of Draco’s parents? Draco snorted to himself. _Potter’s never avoided anyone in his life._ But then where was he? What was he doing? Draco refused to allow himself to consider that perhaps Potter hadn’t come because he’d given up. But it was a hard thought to avoid.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Draco heard distant voices. 

“...your grandson’s in through there,” said the mediwitch on duty. 

_Grandson_? Keeping his eyes closed, Draco lay there, holding his breath. _Maybe they’re visiting someone else--_

The door opened and Draco, clutching his wand that Potter had insisted he keep close, whispered, “ _Narrorare_.”

Slow footsteps approached his bed.

Risking a glimpse, Draco cracked open one eye. An elderly woman was standing over him, staring down at him. She looked vaguely familiar and yet something about her filled him with dread. 

“Asleep, are we?” she muttered, drawing her wand. “Well, we can’t have that. _Enervate_!” 

A jolt went through Draco and his eyes involuntarily opened. “Who are you?” he gasped. 

The woman smiled unpleasantly. “Always the same question. Let’s get to the point, shall we? I don’t have time for the usual rigmarole this time. I couldn’t risk Obliviating that mediwitch, not with so many others around and someone’s bound to come and check on you eventually.”

“Obliviating--” Draco’s eyes narrowed. “You! You’re the one who Obliviated me! And you cursed me!” 

“They know you’ve been Obliviated?” The old woman frowned. “Impossible.” 

_You’ve obviously never met Hermione Granger._ “What do you want with me?” Draco snapped.

The woman sighed. “Can’t you come up with any new questions? Ah well, at least I shan’t have to tamper with your memory this time.”

“This time?” Draco shivered at the mad look in her eyes. “Look, I don’t who you are, but--” 

“You never know who I am!” the woman shouted.

Wincing, Draco glanced towards the door, hoping someone would hear. 

She shook her head. “Oh no. Don’t worry, I put up a Silencing Charm. We can’t have anyone interrupting too soon. We have a few minutes.” 

“If you wanted me to remember you, you shouldn’t have Obliviated me,” Draco said. 

She cackled. “I _had_ to alter your memory before, but now I want you to remember everything for as long as you live, which won’t be very long, unfortunately.” Leaning in, she whispered, “Do you know what I got today? No? My last grimoire. Now I can finally put my plan into action.” 

“Your plan?” 

“Of course. It’s taken me months to collect all of them, and despite those meddlers at the Ministry, I can do what needs to be done.” 

_I have to keep her talking. Hopefully Harry will hear all this even if I don’t make it._ “Which is?” 

“Put all the Mudbloods and half-blood scum in their place. And people like my Vincie need to return and take their rightful place in society.” She smiled and Draco could tell she was quite insane. “And now I can, thanks to your distributor. Ms Parkinson was also quite helpful.”

“If you did anything to Pansy I’ll--” Draco hissed. 

“Oh she’s fine, more’s the pity.” The old harridan snorted. “But we’re running out of time.” Her eyes narrowed and a cruel smile curved her lips. “Let me tell you what you did. You let my Vincie die, so now you’re about to die, too. The curse from that grimoire was supposed to kill you sooner than this, but I’m glad it didn’t. A few more Cruciatus Curses should take care of you with no one the wiser.” 

“A few _more_ \--? You Crucioed me?” 

“Oh yes. Several times. I suppose it is hard to tell what with the grimoire’s curse working on you, too.” She smirked. “You begged me to stop, but I didn’t. After all, my Vincie begged you for his life and you didn’t save him.” 

Draco frowned. “Vincie? Do you mean Vincent--You’re Vince’s grandmother!” 

“And finally you’ve figured it out. You got it faster last time.” Her eyes narrowed. “All those Memory Charms I’ve been using on you must be taking their toll.” 

“You won’t get away with this,” Draco said. “We’re in a hospital. Someone will realise--” 

“Realise what?” She leaned close. “You’re dying, boy! Have you seen anyone recently? All your visitors have stopped coming. I’ve been watching and even your precious Harry Potter is gone, isn’t he? If he cared at all he’d be here.” 

Draco’s heart clenched.

Clearly realising she’d hit a nerve, she smiled. “Don’t you see? Everyone has abandoned you. You’re all alone. All it will take to finish the job is one last Cruciatus. And now that I have the last grimoire, I can finally revive my Vincie. But you won’t be around to see it. Such a shame. _Cru--_!” 

“ _Stupefy_!” 

The witch fell over onto her side, the wand clattering from her fingers. There was movement in the corner and Potter appeared, folding gauzy fabric under his arm. “ _Incarcerous_!” he snapped, and ropes secured Madam Crabbe.

“Harry,” Draco whispered. “What--?”

“I’ve been monitoring you and your shop for days. That’s where I was when you cast that listening spell. I’m glad I could get here in time.” Potter waved his wand and a stag Patronus shot out the end of it. “Tell the others and Ron,” he said to it and it galloped off through the wall. Striding towards Draco, he asked. “Are you all right?” 

“Honestly?” Draco sighed. “I’m not sure.” 

Within seconds Potter was beside him, his arms around Draco, his face buried in Draco’s neck. “Just so you know, I never abandoned you,” he breathed. “I simply figured whoever was responsible would show themselves if they thought you were alone. I hope you didn’t think I’d given up on you.”

Draco closed his eyes. “I...wasn’t sure.”

“Harry!” exclaimed Granger, running in and startling them both. “What happened? Your Patronus said Draco needed us.” 

Behind her were Severus, Pansy, and his parents, but Draco ignored them all, relaxing in Potter’s embrace. Upon seeing them, Severus rolled his eyes. Lucius looked as if he was about to have a cat, and Narcissa simply smiled. 

“Well, whatever happened, it looks like Draco’s in good hands,” Pansy drawled. She frowned. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing to Crabbe’s grandmother.

Looking up from Draco’s neck, Potter nodded at Madam Crabbe. “She’s the one who’s responsible for Draco’s curse and probably for the murder of that poor Squib.” He glanced at Severus. “And I believe you’ll find the grimoire you requested in her possession.” 

Severus snorted. “Well then go ahead and retrieve it, Potter. Or are you planning on allowing other people to do the real work here?”

Potter huffed. “Oh for--”

As his mentor and his soon-to-be-lover argued, Draco laughed to himself. Life certainly promised to be interesting.

***

“You are welcome to stay with us at the Manor, Draco. I trust you know that?”

“I’ll be fine, Mother.” Draco smiled reassuringly at Narcissa. “After two weeks in the hospital, I just...need to go home to my own place.” 

That was an understatement. Draco had been starting to wonder if he’d ever leave St Mungo’s, and between Severus’ and Granger’s hovering, he had been slowly going mad. 

_And speaking of mad--_ “And now that Delphina Crabbe is in Azkaban, I really will be fine.” 

Narcissa sighed. “But it’s almost Christmas--”

Draco tuned her out. He knew it was almost the holidays after all. _And I want to celebrate them._

It had taken Granger, Severus and Harry all collaborating to come up with a treatment for the curse, but they had all worked together tirelessly on Draco’s behalf, something he was truly grateful for. Even Weasley, who’d shown up to haul mad old Delphina off into custody, hadn’t been too bad. Draco would always have a slight tremor, and he’d never be able to fly in competitive Quidditch, but all in all he wasn’t counting those things as losses. _Not with all it looks like I’ve gained,_ he thought, eyeing Harry’s backside. 

They had yet to consummate their relationship, but Draco had no worries that they had good chemistry. He practically melted every time Harry looked at him, after all. He smiled. _And it’s not as if we haven’t managed to cuddle while here._ On more than one occasion Granger had caught them in Draco’s hospital bed together. Draco was convinced that _that_ more than anything was what had persuaded her to let him leave so soon. _She probably didn’t want to find us shagging one morning._

“...not even listening to me, are you?” Narcissa sighed. “All right, I can clearly see you’ve made up your mind. Will we see you for Christmas morning breakfast at least? Your aunt and cousin will be there.” 

Glancing over towards Harry, who was talking quietly with Granger, Draco nodded. “I think so. After all, Teddy is Harry’s godson.”

“Good.” Leaning close, Narcissa kissed his cheek. “And don’t worry about your father. He’ll come around eventually. He just wants to see you happy.” 

Draco smiled. Lucius had been surprisingly quiet on the topic of Harry. Draco was hoping that lasted but wasn’t holding his breath. _Still, I’m sure Harry can handle it._ “Is it all right if Harry attends Christmas breakfast, too?”

“Of course.” Narcissa patted his cheek. “It’s clear to me that there will be no separating the two of you for a while.” 

_Not if I have anything to say about it._ Draco blushed. 

“I take you have plans for the rest of the holiday?” 

Draco nodded. “I promised Harry I’d go with him to the Weasley place for dinner.” 

Narcissa coughed. “Then I suppose we’d best get accustomed to sharing you.” She smiled. “I’m just glad you’re still here to share.” 

Draco, who had been watching Harry surreptitiously, saw Lucius make a beeline for him. He stood. “Me, too, Mother. Now I think I need to go and rescue Harry.” And, after bending down and kissing her cheek, he walked toward where Lucius and Harry were talking. _Or rather, where Father appears to be lecturing Harry._

“...hurt my son then, saviour of the wizarding world or no, I shall--”

“Right,” Draco interrupted, tucking his hand into the crook of Harry’s arm. “Time to go, then, I think.” 

Harry, however, didn’t seem perturbed. “I’ll take care of him, Mr Malfoy. And if I don’t you’ve my permission to come after me.” 

Lucius pursed his lips. “Then we understand each other.” 

As he walked away, Draco sighed. “Sorry about that.” 

Harry chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the threats. After all, our friends are...protective.”

And, as it turned out, he was correct. Within moments, Granger made her way to them. “Make sure you take three drops of this potion every day for a week. I’ll slowly taper the dose, but I want you to start with that.” Then, shocking Draco, she hugged him. “And thank you.”

Draco blinked. “For?” 

She smiled. “Your case has helped me understand more about Cruciatus-induced nerve damage and about memory loss. I’ve some ideas about how to restore my parents’ memories.” 

Draco nodded.

Leaning in, Granger then murmured, “But just so we’re clear, if you hurt Harry, I will kill you. And no one will ever find your body.” 

“Hermione!” Laughing, Harry hugged her. “Stop that! He’ll believe you.” 

As they hugged, however, Granger’s eyes met Draco’s, and knowing she was deadly serious, he nodded slowly in acknowledgement. 

They had almost made it out of the hospital when Severus approached. “Potter--”

“I know,” Harry said, holding up a hand. “If I hurt Draco you’ll kill me.” 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Well naturally, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip. “Sorry, then.” 

“I was going to commend you on your work in this case. I have talked with the head of Curse-Breaking and they are considering having you liaise with us here at St Mungo’s for our more difficult curse cases.” 

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. Thank you, Snape. I’m flattered--” 

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Severus snapped. “And the other still stands. Hurt Draco and I shall hunt you down.” 

“Right, well, if everyone’s done with the threats we’ll be off.” Draco turned to Harry. “Shall we?” 

Harry winked, and, shooting a look at Granger, said, “Definitely. Hold on.” 

When, a moment later, they were in front of Tidbits and Tomes, Draco blinked. “Are you supposed to be able to Apparate out of St Mungo’s?” 

Harry grinned. “We got special dispensation.” 

Draco thought of the amount of power at Harry’s disposal and shivered. The thought of finally being alone with him was intoxicating. Harry, apparently thinking he was cold, hugged him closer. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

“I’m not cold,” Draco murmured. “It’s just...there’s an Anti-Apparation field up at the hospital. Not many people have the power to circumvent that.”

Harry sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t think about how it would look. I don’t frighten you, do I?” 

Draco smiled. “Au contraire. I find you sexy as hell.” 

Slowly, Harry smiled, and leaned in, kissing Draco. The kiss quickly deepened until Harry had Draco pressed against the door of the shop.

A passerby’s low whistle broke them apart and Harry, clearly mortified, rested his forehead against Draco’s. “What is it about you that makes me lose control?” he whispered. 

Draco grinned. “Actually I was beginning to think that you had a bit of an exhibitionist streak.” 

Harry laughed. “Not usually. Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

Pansy was there at the counter and when she saw Draco she squealed and ran towards him, startling the customers who she’d been checking out. “Draco, you look wonderful!” Then, turning to look at Harry, she started, “Potter, just so you know, if you hurt him--” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco grabbed Harry’s hand. “You can threaten him later, Pansy. Right now, we’ve things to do.” 

“Oh?” she called after them as Draco dragged Harry up the stairs towards his flat. “Like what?”

“Exchange gifts!” 

When they got to the top of the stairs, Harry said, “Good thing I brought your gift with me.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco said, dragging him into his flat. “You _are_ my gift!”

***

Christmas breakfast at the Manor went well, although Draco suspected that had more to do with Teddy being adorable and Lucius being pleasantly drunk than anything else. Still, they managed to get out of there without anyone being hexed, so he counted that as a win.

Dinner at the Burrow was far more boisterous an event than anticipated. Draco, who hadn’t known what to expect, had been a tad overwhelmed by all the people and noise. But since no one seemed too upset to see him there, not even Ginevra, who was clearly too wrapped up in Longbottom to worry about anyone else, Draco finally relaxed. _Plus,_ , he thought as he surveyed the food. _Say whatever else about her, but Mrs Weasley can cook._

When it came time for gift giving, Draco chuckled along with everyone else as, one after another, Weasley jumpers were distributed, unwrapped, and slipped on. “Salazar, does she make everyone a new one every year?” he whispered to Harry. 

“Pretty much,” Harry said, laughing. 

When Molly handed Draco a package, though, he wasn’t laughing. He’d brought some wine as a hostess gift, but nothing specifically for her. Face flushed, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t realise--”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear.” Molly patted his cheek. “This is just a little something to welcome you to the fam...I mean to our home.” She winked at Harry and moved on, handing Longbottom a lumpy package. 

Draco turned his over in his hands. “It’s not a jumper is it?” 

“Nah, she didn’t have time for that,” said George Weasley, amused. “But just wait until next year. I’m laying my wager now that yours will be grey.” 

Hands trembling, Draco tore it open to find a green scarf and pair of green mittens. They were like nothing he owned and as he caressed the soft wool he immediately loved them. “Thank you, they’re lovely,” he said, making Molly beam. 

“You’ll do,” murmured George, who had been watching. 

Sliding his arms around Draco’s shoulders, Harry hugged him and smiled. “Right,” he said, pulling Draco to his feet. “Let’s take a walk.” 

Outside the world was white and cold, and away from the merriment of the Burrow, Draco felt calm, at peace. Holding hands with Harry as they walked down to the frozen lake, he held his breath when Harry tugged him close using his new scarf. “So, are you enjoying your Christmas?” he asked. 

Licking his lips, Draco smiled. “I’ve had worse. You?” 

“I’ve had worse, too.” Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s. “But not many better.” 

Leaning into Harry’s embrace, Draco hummed. Something told him that future Christmases were only going to get better.

***

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave a comment here or [on Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/5411.html).


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